Should I Get a Ruler?
by Trish47
Summary: Post Spooked. Dean Porter's arrival and departure stir up Elliot's jealous side. Now what is he going to do about it? Multi-chap fic with EO. Please review. Part Fourteen: Reaction. Elliot copes and deals with getting Olivia pregnant. Enjoy!
1. Rat

A/N: So I know people are divided about "Spooked" but I had to post this. I chose the title because it was the one line I thought was missing from this episode. Thanks Chels for previewing this and making some suggestions. You're awesome!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned SVU or its characters, Olivia would have been happy at the end of this episode. NBC and Dick Wolf are the ones who want to see her lonely and miserable.

* * *

Cragen tells them, orders them, not to arrest Dean Porter. Not because their captain thinks he should get away with what he's done, with committing murder and being excused for it, but because the orders come from a higher place on the bureaucratic chain of bullshit.

They have to bend over and take the FBI's rank pulling. They have to give in, give up. They can't arrest Porter. The higher-ups have made him untouchable.

Fuck that.

Elliot walks out of the interrogation room because if he stays there any longer he's going to put his fist through something. The table. The wall. Porter's face. So, to keep himself under control, he leaves. But he doesn't get very far before he turns around and goes back.

Only Olivia and Porter are in the room now, and Elliot hears her accusing him of lying to her.

"I trusted you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Maybe it's wrong for Elliot to spy on their conversation, but he can't force himself to turn away from the moment unfolding in front of him. Olivia's unraveling. Elliot needs to see how this plays out.

"Why didn't you trust me?"

"Our feelings don't matter," Porter responds coldly.

Elliot's blood heats as he watches her struggle with this statement. Olivia had—has—_had_ feelings for Porter. Elliot can see the anguish in her squinted eyes as she fights against the tears of betrayal.

It's obvious now that she cared for Porter. A lot.

And now Porter's gone and spit in her face, on her feelings.

"Rat bastard," Elliot swears under his breath, fists clenched at his sides. He wants to kill Porter. He'd do it for a number of reasons, but the expression on her face as Porter turns away makes it justifiable to him.

The FBI agent comes out of the room, not bothering to look at Elliot. He holds his head high and acts as though he's unaffected by what just happened. Elliot wants to deck the prick right there, but his boss is still watching him closely; Cragen probably expects that kind of violent reaction. Elliot wonders if his captain would stop him after the first punch or if he'd be able to get in two or three jabs before he was pulled away, for propriety's sake.

But Elliot's still focused on his partner. He sees the pain of Porter's final words etched in her face.

Olivia realizes there isn't even a slim chance for her and Porter anymore. It's over.

She's staring at the two-way mirror and Elliot wonders if she can sense that he's on the other side, watching her. She doesn't move or cry, just stares at her reflection in the mirror—at him—and he stares back. He's torn between going in and comforting her or going after the dick that left her in that state.

His feet move in the direction of the stairwell.

He catches up to Porter in the parking garage; he's standing by his government-issued BMW. Terri is already in the car, but Porter isn't. He hears Elliot's quick footsteps and turns with his hand on the snap of his holster. Porter drops his hand when he sees the detective, but his wary expression remains. He's heard all about Elliot's reputation and he doesn't want any kind of confrontation.

"Detective Stabler, you should go back inside. There's nothing else to say."

One side of Elliot's mouth tugs upward in a cocky smile as he walks right up to Porter's side. The schmuck is too confident and too stupid to expect Elliot's next move.

Bam. His fist connects with Porter's jaw and it hurts his hand like hell, but it feels so good.

Porter may have been made untouchable in the eyes of the law, but from Elliot's perspective, he's still just a bastard who hurt his partner and needs his ass kicked.

The woman in the car lets out a shriek, but Porter waves his hand in her direction to keep her quiet, to tell her the situation is under control. Recovering, Porter straightens. His eyes are wide and his hand touches his cheek tentatively.

Elliot shrugs, continuing to smile, only bigger. "You're right. I don't have anything to say to you. Not anymore," he says smugly.

Elliot hopes Porter will retaliate, but he doesn't raise a fist.

"If you don't have anything to say, can we stop the pissing contest now?" Porter asks. His cheek is already swelling.

"What pissing contest? This isn't between me and you."

"You're telling me you didn't punch me for coming between you and Olivia?"

"You didn't come between us."

The beauty of that statement: it's true.

"I punched you because you're an ass and you deserved it."

He deserved it for hurting Olivia years before and for doing it again a few minutes ago. He deserved it for bugging the squad's phones. He deserved it for covering up a murder and getting off scot-free. Most of all, Porter deserved it for taking that shot at the airport and risking his partner's life.

Elliot would've never taken that shot. Porter could've killed her. Just the thought of the airport hostage incident makes him want to hit Porter again, but the coward is already opening the car door and starting the engine.

Through the rolled down window Porter says, "Whatever you say, Detective Stabler." There's no emotion in his voice; he doesn't believe that Elliot's slug was justified.

"Just remember why you wear that ring on your finger."

The car drives away, taking the scum of the Earth with it.

Elliot can still hear Porter's mocking tone from that last comment and his anger boils up again.

He looks down at the gold band on his left hand and curses under his breath.

Because Porter is right. Because he's married. Because, dammit, he doesn't care.

* * *

I'd love to know what you think, so please leave a review! Thanks!


	2. Rebound

A/N: Hey everyone. Thanks for your reviews on the last chapter. Let me know what you think about this one. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: SVU and everything related to it belongs to NBC and Dick Wolf.

* * *

Elliot stalks into the precinct, turning the ring on his finger around and around with his thumb. He mumbles to himself, calling Porter a few choice names. The elevator doors open, and Olivia's there. Not the Olivia who questioned Porter, but the composed Olivia that he's used to.

Seeing her dispels Elliot's lingering anger from confronting Porter. His scowl becomes a smile and he's amazed at how easily she brings him back to center without a single word.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey."

Although anyone in the squad room would say she looks fine, there's something in that single syllable that strikes him. He knows she's not okay. How could she be? After all that's happened this past week 'okay' and 'normal' and 'fine' have been suspended from their vocabulary.

"Goin' home?"

"Yeah. Cragen's orders. For both of us." She shuffles her feet, waiting for him to get out of the elevator so she can get in.

"Do you want a ride?"

She glances up at him, biting her lower lip in indecision. Then she tilts her head, hair brushing over her shoulder and falling across her eyes. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it."

He's not sure why he was holding his breath waiting for her answer. His smile grows. He can't help himself. She steps into the elevator beside him, her shoulder brushing against his. Elliot doesn't bother to get his jacket.

He'll just tell Kathy that a case came up and that he couldn't get out of it. She'll see right through that excuse, but he'll give it to her anyway. Or maybe he won't say anything.

***

At some point on the ride to her apartment they realize they're both starving. They don't want to be around other people, so they stop for take-out at a Chinese place. He pays. She cracks a fortune cookie in the car and hands him half. Her mouth curls in a smile as she reads the fortune out loud.

"'Face facts with dignity.'"

Elliot notices that she's more relaxed, like she's forgotten or blocked out what Porter said a little while ago. That or she's still too angry to acknowledge what happened.

***

Cartons of lo mein noodles and chicken fried rice are scattered across her counter. They steal mouthfuls of food from each other's containers. Elliot splits his fortune cookie and Olivia almost chokes when he reads the slip of paper.

"'You have an unusual equipment for success, use it properly.'"

"It seriously says that?"

"It's even got smiley faces surrounding it."

Elliot grins while she subdues her laughing.

"I'm not gonna say a word." Her second bout of laughter is contagious.

***

Eventually they move to the couch and Elliot refuses to picture Porter sitting there, kissing his partner. This is his space; he's reclaiming it like a dog marking its territory after a mutt tries to encroach on its terrain.

As Elliot lifts a beer bottle to his lips, Olivia narrows her eyes at his hand. Elliot inspects it and realizes that his knuckles are bruised.

"What've you been punching now?" An eyebrow arches. "Or should I ask _who_ you've been punching?"

Elliot rubs the back of his neck and tries not to grin. He can still see the shocked expression on Porter's face as his fist made contact. That image will bring him satisfaction for weeks, maybe months.

"El…?" She drags out his name and it's strangely arousing. Ever since Porter showed up in Terri's apartment, Elliot's been hyper-sensitive to every little movement Olivia makes, every word that escapes her lips.

"He deserved it."

A slow, knowing, smile creeps across her face. His whole body goes warm, glowing with smug, male pride.

She gently takes his hand, her thumb grazing over his knuckles. He remembers that hand fisted into his shirt as he cradled her against him on the airport tarmac. This little touch should pale in comparison to the contact between them that day but, somehow, this touch is much more intimate.

"Thank you," she says.

It's not the saying he expects, but he couldn't ask for a better reaction. There's only one thing wrong with it.

Elliot uses his free hand to brush away the tear that's run down her cheek. It's the only tear that escapes. His fingers reach up into her hair, caress the nape of her neck.

"I wouldn't've let him get away with what he did to you."

Olivia lays her other hand on top of his without moving it from her neck. Then she turns into him and pulls his arm across her body so that he's holding her in a one armed hug. She rests against his chest. Her head covers his heart, feels its fast but constant pulsing until its rhythm becomes her own.

They sit like that—quiet and together—for a while. Elliot twirls a lock of her hair between his fingers, inhaling the appealing scent of her shampoo. His mind begins to drift and fantasize.

Olivia starts to stroke his uncovered forearm, at first without thinking, then with purpose.

Elliot's hand slides down, stopping at her breast. His thumb lightly brushes over her nipple, testing, pushing the limits of their relationship.

Her head turns and she looks up at him. The apology he doesn't want to give is on the tip of his tongue. But then she pulls his face to hers, presses her lips against his.

Elliot's more than a little surprised, but his mouth acts on its own accord. It's always getting him into trouble, especially with her.

After a while, things stumble to the bedroom. She takes off her clothes, he takes off his. Bodies fall to the bed and entwine themselves, scattering throw pillows and sheets. At this moment they are not themselves. They are some other unified and shuddering entity.

A mixture of sighs and screams fills the apartment. Then silence.

* * *


	3. Regret

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC own them...for now.

* * *

Regret

He rolls over, half awake. Finding he's alone, Elliot opens his eyes. Olivia is sitting on the side of the bed, feet dangling, hands gripping the lip of the mattress. Her head is tilted toward the floor. Hair hangs around her face, hiding it from him. The rest of her is uncovered, naked and beautiful.

Elliot doesn't know what to expect from her right now. He feels like everything they've ever learned about each other doesn't apply anymore. They're different; things between them have changed.

He wonders if she feels as confused as he does now that it's happened. He always said the day he slept with his partner was the day he requested a new one. Olivia probably has a similar mantra. But now that he's actually done it—violated his only rule—he doesn't think he can follow through on his punishment. He can't leave her, especially not now.

Elliot can't stop looking at her. He slides over, behind her and places kisses along her shoulder, up her neck, then back again.

No reaction. Olivia doesn't push him away but doesn't encourage him either.

Her indifference unsettles him. His kisses stop.

Olivia silently gets up and walks to her bathroom. There's no glance over the shoulder, no 'I'll be right back.' Not a goddamn word. She doesn't attempt to hide her body from him, but he senses that this might be the last time he sees her backside without anything covering it.

Elliot stands. Thoughts flood his mind, pummel him with consequences.

What the fuck does he do now? Wait for her to come back and talk about it? Make her breakfast? Grab his clothes, get outta there and pretend like nothing happened? Rational thought is difficult because he can still smell her all around him, on him.

Finally, Elliot gets dressed, folds the crumpled sheets at the foot of the bed, then stacks the pillows near the headboard. In the kitchen he doesn't find eggs or bacon, so he makes coffee for both of them.

By the time it's done brewing, Olivia is out of the shower and dressed. She comes out of her bedroom, towel drying her hair. She tries to force her lips into a smile, but the attempt fails. Olivia can't hold on to the illusion of being happy.

He still hasn't thought of anything to say to her.

It doesn't make any sense, this moment they're having. He doesn't understand how he can have such an awkward moment with the woman he's normally so comfortable with. Oh right, he's just had sex with her, his partner. Shit.

"Take a breath, El. It's okay."

She senses his uneasiness, tries to comfort him. The calmness in her voice escapes him; the tension in his shoulders remains, even after he takes the suggested breath.

"I don't know what to say." He avoids eye contact.

Olivia doesn't have trouble coming up with words. Something about that bothers him."We know this shouldn't have happened."

"But it did," he says.

"It's not going to happen again."

Elliot's heart sinks a little at her decided tone. Even if she's right, she doesn't have to be so final about it.

"I was horny and vulnerable. Stupid, really," she mumbles.

She's putting all the blame on herself. It's not right. Somehow, he's at fault here.

Because he's been picturing her beneath him instead of his wife for years. Because he wanted this to happen. Because he loves her.

"Don't blame yourself."

"Elliot, you're married. I know that. I should've stopped."

He hates that every conversation he's had on relationships recently circles around to remind him that he's married. Yeah, he got the memo. He knows.

"I shouldn't have taken advantage of you. Not after what Porter did."

Olivia looks stricken, like he's just slapped her by saying Porter's name. Dammit. He wishes he could rewind this whole conversation and start over.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I shouldn't have…"

She holds up a hand, smiles weakly. "It's fine," she says. "I've dealt with these kinds of things before."

Elliot wonders if she means having her heart broken by an egotistical asshole or having one night stands that she regrets the following morning. It might be wrong, but he hopes it's the former.

"So, what do we do?"

Olivia sighs. "We go back to work, together, and we forget about it."

"Liv…"

She shakes her head, drops her eyes to the floor. "Don't. Just don't."

There's no point in trying to argue. It's what needs to be done.

**

As they sip at their lukewarm coffee, Elliot asks, "What am I gonna tell Kathy?"

Olivia nearly chokes. "El, you can't."

"But…"

"You wanna stay married, don't you?"

He leaves that question hang between them because he hasn't been sure of the answer in a long time.

Olivia refuses to let her partner's marriage die. "She doesn't need to know. Why hurt her?"

_Too._ That's the word she doesn't say but he hears it in her voice, clear as crystal. Elliot pushes the issue of Kathy's feelings aside to focus on the woman in front of him.

"Olivia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm fine," she insists, but she doesn't say he's wrong, doesn't excuse or forgive him.

"Why're you lying?"

"I'm not. I just don't wanna talk about this anymore."

Her evasion frustrates him because she's never open with him, not as open as she should be. She refuses to trust him. With her feelings. With her relationships. With everything except her life which, ironically, is the only thing she does trust him with.

"Why don't you trust me?" he asks. His question makes her face go pale and at first he doesn't understand why.

Then—in a hard, unfeeling, recorded tone—she says, "Our feelings don't matter."

Elliot's hand starts to reach for her, to comfort her, to correct her. Their feelings _do _matter. But she turns away, moving out of his range, deliberately avoiding his touch.

Finished with the conversation, Olivia heads back to her bedroom, quietly closing the door to tell Elliot he's not welcome to follow.

Elliot grinds his bruised knuckles against her kitchen countertop, wincing in pain. But he pushes harder because he deserves to be in pain right now.

_Fucking idiot_, he thinks.

**

When she comes out her mascara's a little smudged. That trademark smile—empty, cheerless and small—is secured on her face. The transformation breaks his heart. Suddenly she's normal Olivia again. It's like she's poured a jar of white-out over the memory of last night, of this morning's conversation.

She grabs her jacket. "Ready?"

To go? To accept the deal? To forget?

He nods.

* * *

A/N: Please let me know what you thought. Thanks!


	4. Rupture

Hey everyone! Thank you for all of your reviews. Here's the next chapter. And thanks, Chels, for your continued support and help! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and Co. like to screw with Olivia's life and her partnership with Elliot (has anyone seen the "Perverted" promo? Gees). I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for a little of my own enjoyment.

* * *

Rupture

The first week Elliot stays busy.

Keeping his mind occupied with case files and police reports makes it easier to push away the memories. Memories of Olivia screaming his name over and over, her legs wrapping around his back, her eyes fluttering closed as she climaxed.

His partner seems to have no trouble getting back to normal. On Wednesday she walks over and leans her hip against his desk. "Wanna grab some lunch before the trial?" she asks, casual as ever.

He pats a stack of manila folders by his computer. "Busy."

It's been his go-to answer all week. He feels like she's been deliberately trying to sabotage his attempt to forget. It was her idea, dammit. He's just trying to give her what she wants.

Olivia frowns but goes to lunch without him, just like she did yesterday and the day before that. It takes Elliot a moment to get her out of his head, then he buries himself in paperwork.

But the paperwork only lasts a week. Without the distraction, his mind starts replaying their night together, every detail so vivid it's like he's watching it in HDTV.

**

The second week Elliot tries to avoid her.

Putting physical space between them is the only way he can keep his hands off her. Every time Olivia enters the bullpen, he dodges her questions and ducks into the crib or hides in the bathroom. At one point he is sequestered in the men's room for fifteen minutes, listening at the door until he hears her storm off.

Olivia, he notes, has a harder time concealing her irritability. She stops asking him to go to lunch. She hasn't asked for a ride home since the day Porter left.

Elliot realizes that avoiding her isn't very effective. It's difficult to completely ignore someone you work with, when you spend the better part of the day with them stuffed into cars or interrogating suspects in a tiny, cinderblock room.

When Kathy asks him if he's having problems at work because he's managed to make dinner every night this week, Elliot decides it's time for Plan C.

**

A few days later Olivia corners him in an interrogation room.

"What is your problem, Elliot?"

Her voice is strained and Elliot realizes that she's not having an easy time forgetting about the sex either. Dark circles rim her lower lids, show how tired she is of putting up with his immature bullshit.

She's calling him out on his rude behavior, his half-assed Plan C. He's oddly glad though, because he hates himself for treating her like shit and now he'll have to stop.

"This isn't working. I can't stop thinking about it."

Olivia ignores his admission. "It's our only option. If word gets out—"

"Yeah, I know. The shit will hit the fan."

"I don't want a new partner."

"Well, I guess you should've thought about that before," he says without thinking.

Her hand slaps him before he sees it move. There's no restraint on her part. The skin on his jaw prickles, heats and tingles.

Glares are exchanged, deep breaths taken on both sides.

"Pull yourself together, Elliot. This is how it's gonna be. I need to know you can handle this."

She's right, of course. He just doesn't want to accept that it's over between them, romantically anyway. Things don't feel finished. All they've done is open a box of new sensations, new feelings, new possibilities. Elliot's not ready to put the lid back on yet.

"I can handle it."

She looks skeptical, but she should be, because Elliot doesn't believe the words that just came out of his mouth either.

A short series of knocks sounds on the double-sided mirror. They attempt to hide their panicked expressions before turning around. The door cracks open. Their captain's head appears.

"I want you two in my office," he says. "Now."

Fuck.

Olivia is the first to move, striding out of the interrogation room with her head high. Elliot shuffles after her, not feeling the same confidence. Cragen knows. He just knows.

If Dean Porter's visit taught Elliot anything, it's that privacy is overestimated. He should've known their secret would come out, especially with Cragen watching. Their boss probably has hidden microphones in the walls, probably employs the janitorial staff as spies too.

Or maybe Cragen just has eyes and half a brain.

**

"Who wants to explain?" Cragen asks after they're seated. He remains standing, assuming the proper stance to dole out a serious reprimand.

"Explain what?" Elliot asks.

"Cut the crap, detective. I'm not blind. And you're not as subtle as you think. How long has this been going on?"

His question produces an uncomfortable silence, thick with accusations. _He knows everything, _Elliot thinks as he pulls at his collar—the fabric feels like it's choking off his air supply, but it's just the lump in his throat.

Olivia tries to rescue their sinking chance at remaining partners, at keeping their jobs. "Sir, we had one lapse in judgment, but we're dealing with it. It's been dealt with."

"Rules are made for a reason," Cragen begins, his words cracking with the rage boiling beneath his composed appearance. "When things like this happen, good cops get killed."

Cragen pauses deliberately, lets his remark sink in. "When cops become romantically involved, they let their guards down. People get killed. Civilians. Victims. Partners."

"Captain," Elliot tries to interrupt, tries to tell him that won't happen.

"I did not ask for your opinion, Detective Stabler!"

His shout keeps Elliot from speaking.

"I won't have any of my detectives end up dead because you couldn't keep it in your pants," Cragen says, narrowing his eyes at Elliot before turning on Olivia, "Or because you undid yours."

Elliot's fists clench at the insult. He deserves the reprimand, but not Olivia. He was the one that started things, whatever she might argue.

She tugs on his sleeve when he opens his mouth. "El..." she growls in warning.

His fists release, responding to her voice.

Cragen sits and rubs his hands over his face. He remains silent, considering the situation. "This 'lapse in judgment' won't jeopardize your ability to work with each other, will it?" he asks finally.

"No," Olivia says quickly.

"No," Elliot echoes.

Cragen's eyes dart between them, assessing.

"It would be a shame to have to split you up. Consider this a final warning. If you two don't sort this out soon, you'll both have rookies for partners. Understood?"

They respond with a simultaneous, "Yes, Captain."

Cragen waves his hand in dismissal.

Elliot knows he must try harder to forget, to treat his partner as nothing _but_ his partner. No matter how much it kills him to do it.

They walk back to their adjacent desks in stiff silence. Olivia's phone rings and she answers in a soft voice.

"We'll be right down," she says after a moment. Hanging up, she looks at Elliot. "We've got a case."

* * *

A/N: Well, I'm trying to be pretty realistic about the whole situation here. But the next chapter is head in a slightly different (read: possibly less ansty) direction. And for anyone who worries like I do about story length, just know that this fic isn't going to end any time soon. :)


	5. Replacement

A/N: Hey everyone, here's the fifth chap. Less angst. More action. Yay. :) Hope you like it. And thanks again Chels. You're the best.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

* * *

Replacement

Any tension left between them goes on the back burner when they arrive at Mercy Hospital. Somehow, when faced with a suffering child, they manage to put aside their personal issues, act like the professionals they are.

"Are you the detectives?" a forty-something man asks, glancing up from the clipboard in his hand. He does a double take when he sees Olivia. Elliot smirks. It never gets old—seeing people react to his partner.

"This is Detective Benson. I'm Detective Stabler. Are you the nurse who called?"

"I did call, but I'm Stephen's doctor."

Elliot narrows his eyes at the power play.

Olivia smiles. "You're Dr. Reed?"

"You can call me Henry."

Elliot's uncomfortable with the way his partner and the doctor don't break eye contact after the introductions are over.

He clears his throat. "Can we see Stephen? We'd like to ask him a few questions."

"Of course. This way." Reed begins walking, filling them in on the situation as they go. "Stephen's mother brought him in after she noticed blood stains on his underwear. When she asked him what was wrong, he wouldn't answer her, only cry. I've seen my share of abuse cases, but never something this bad."

"What did you find? Were there any fluids?" Elliot asks as they stop outside of a room.

"Semen. More than enough for DNA testing. And Stephen's in bad shape. . . .Find the bastard that did this," Reed finishes, voice gruff.

Olivia lays a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Henry. We'll take it from here."

**

"It was his stepfather," Mrs. Vazquez tells Olivia as Elliot focuses his attention on the boy in the hospital bed. "Ever since he got out of Rikers he's been…different, around Stephen."

"Do you know the person that did this to you, Stephen?" Elliot asks in a gentle voice.

The boy nods but won't meet his gaze. "Papí."

"I said you can't go in there!" Reed shouts from the hallway.

The door to Stephen's room flies open and a burly man, who's still growing out his prison haircut, fills the doorway. Stephen flinches and cowers toward Elliot, his eyes going wide. Elliot's jaw clenches, but he puts a hand on the child's shoulder to convey that he's safe.

It's Olivia who approaches the man they take to be Stephen's stepfather. Standing at her full height, she's still a good three inches shorter and less than half the man's weight. But she doesn't show any signs of being intimidated by the larger man.

"Are you Javier Vazquez?"

"Who're you? I'm here to see my son." He tries to step around her, but Olivia blocks him, flashing her badge.

"Why? So you can stop him before he talks? It's over. We've got DNA, and as soon as we match it to you, you're back in prison."

"No. I won't go back!"

Elliot goes for the tackle as the man's left fist crashes against his partner's head.

All three bodies fall to the ground, one stunned, two wrestling for power. Reed joins the foray and Elliot's glad for the extra hands. With difficulty they subdue the thrashing man. Elliot manages to close the handcuffs around his wrists.

"Javier Vazquez, you are under arrest."

"What for?" he huffs, still struggling.

"Assaulting a police officer. You have the right to remain silent…"

Even as Elliot lifts Javier to a standing position and recites his Miranda rights, his eyes search for Olivia. Reed is crouched in front of her, blocking his view. He cranes his neck to assess what the damage is.

"I'm fine," Olivia keeps saying, trying to stop Reed from touching her forehead.

"Bleeding's not usually associated with the word 'fine.'"

"Is she okay?" Elliot asks Reed because Olivia is trying to say it's just a scratch.

"His ring made a sizable gash. But a few stitches and she'll be good to go. I'm guessing you won't stay for an MRI?"

"No. And I don't need stitches either. Just give me a Band-aid." Her fingers are covered in blood when she pulls them away from her temple.

"I'm afraid a Band-aid won't cut it. I'll stitch you up right now. It won't take long. Ten minutes, tops."

Elliot is familiar with the look she gives Reed, knows she's still going to fight. "Liv, you need stitches."

Olivia's gaze switches between the two men. She realizes she's not going to win this one and finally gives in. "Fine. But El, get this sonofabitch outta here," she says, glaring at Javier.

**

Outside, Elliot hands Javier over to a pair of uniformed officers so that he makes it down to central booking in one piece. Alex won't be happy with him if the bastard gets off on a police brutality accusation.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia gets into the car, a fresh piece of white gauze taped to her temple. She's tried to cover it with her hair, but it's still visible.

Instead of the indifferent stare he expects, her lips are curled into a smile.

"Did Reed give you a shot of morphine too?" Elliot jokes as he pulls into traffic.

"No." From her coat pocket she pulls out an orange lollipop. Her smile grows as she removes the wrapper.

Elliot eyes the candy with suspicion. "If I'd have known it only took a lollipop to make you happy, I'd have given you a bagful a long time ago."

Olivia ignores his sarcasm. Elliot's concerned that she needs that MRI after all, but he doesn't want to take her back to Reed. He did this to her, made his partner all smiley and strange and foreign to him. He only left her alone for twenty minutes. What the hell happened in there?

They stop at a light. Elliot watches her twirl the stick of the lollipop between her fingers, then bring it to her mouth like a microphone.

"El…"

"Yeah?"

"I gave him my number."

She closes her lips around the lollipop as Elliot strangles the steering wheel.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I'd love to know your thoughts. Was I evil to end it there? ;)


	6. Rejected

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story, especially new reviewers! It means more than you know to see that people are reading and responding. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy. And thanks again Chels for all the support and proofing.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them. But if NBC ever goes under, I'm putting my bid in for the rights.

* * *

Rejected

Vazquez requests a lawyer as soon as the DNA comes back, proving that he molested his stepson. Elliot's disappointed that they don't get to interrogate the bastard, but maybe that's for the best. Alex will have his head if he doesn't play by the rules, follow procedure and keep his hands off the prick that hit his partner.

It's been a long week.

Elliot finds Olivia slipping into her coat. She looks as tired as he feels.

"Want a ride?"

"Yeah."

**

As the car starts and stops with traffic, Elliot tries not to think about what happened the last time he drove her home. He wonders if she's fighting the memories too. When he glances at her, her face is blank.

"Penny for your thoughts," he offers.

"I hope he calls."

"Who?"

"Henry."

"The doctor?" He thought she had just been teasing him the other day, trying to get him riled up. He didn't realize she was serious. "Liv…why'd you give him your number?"

"I'm not allowed?"

"It's not like you."

She shifts in her seat, pulls at the seatbelt across her chest. "Oh no. Elliot, I'm not doing this."

"Doing what? It's a valid comment. You only just met the man."

"I'm not explaining myself to you."

"Liv…"

She refuses to answer him and doesn't speak for the last few blocks. Elliot can't figure out why she's making this such a big deal. He's only asking for an explanation.

He throws the car in park outside of her building and turns to face her. Olivia is already shutting her door, walking around the back of the car. Elliot mumbles a few curses and lifts the latch of the driver's side door. He wants an answer from her.

His door is only cracked open when Olivia slams it shut, almost crushing his fingers. She stands outside the car and Elliot lowers the window so she can speak. The top half of her body comes down so that she can look him in the eyes.

"I shouldn't have to say anything."

"But?"

"I'm moving on, El. Because I can't do this with you. I need to get back to normal. Don't you?"

He stumbles for a response, but can't come up with one. Olivia straightens and walks away.

Elliot waits until she's inside her apartment building before leaving. A part of him agrees with her. He'd like them to get back to normal too.

If he only knew what that meant.

**

When he comes in on Monday, Olivia's already at her computer laboring over the weekend pile-up. He places the coffee he brought her on top of a stack of files.

"Morning." He waits to see if she'll accept his apology.

She smiles, a genuine smile that reaches her eyes. "Thank you."

Peace offering accepted, Elliot let's himself breathe. Step one to normalcy: complete.

Things start to change, to return to the way they were before Dean Porter interrupted their lives, before they slept together, before Olivia gave Henry Reed her phone number.

Elliot starts spending more time at the office and avoiding home. Kathy bitches but it doesn't bother him. He's used to it. It's normal.

At work, Elliot and Olivia get back to business as usual; coffee runs increase in frequency and they discuss evidence and profile possible suspects over lunch. They work harder than they ever have and when Cragen commends them on a job well done, Elliot knows they've come as close to normal as they're going to get.

Olivia never says whether Reed called her. She hides her personal life from him, acts like she doesn't have a social life. But that's normal too.

Everything is normal. Perfectly. Fucking. Normal.

Elliot is more miserable than ever.

**

At the end of the week, Elliot shuts off his computer, waiting for Olivia to come back from the bathroom to see if she wants a ride home. After glancing at his watch, he realizes that she's been gone for a while.

He sees the heels first. His gaze moves up, following her bare leg to the knee. Black chiffon sways with the movement of her hips.

When she reaches her desk, he catches a whiff of the perfume she's wearing; she smells like sex and power and woman. His head spins with the pheromones.

Then he sees cleavage and he coughs violently to cover up the groan that escapes him.

"El, what's wrong?"

"You're beautiful." He can't pretend that he doesn't notice. Not with the way he's practically ogling her.

She blushes at his scrutiny. "Oh, well…I'm outta here."

"What's the occasion?"

"I'm meeting Henry tonight."

He's a little thrown by that revelation. "Do you know anything about this guy?"

"I know he's a surgeon—"

"Jack the Ripper was a surgeon."

He can tell she's trying to remain passive. "Henry's a pediatric surgeon. I think I'm safe."

"You thought you were safe with Porter too."

One stab after another. He doesn't know what's come over him.

Olivia grabs her coat and heads for the elevators. She's running. Like she always does.

Elliot catches her before she hits the down arrow. His hand closes around her forearm, but she pulls out of his grasp.

"Liv, I'm sorry—"

She steps toward him and Elliot realizes that following her was not a good idea. If glares could kill, he'd be lying on the floor right now, rasping for his last breaths. He fights to stand his ground as she invades his space. She's so close to him that their noses nearly touch.

"Elliot, I don't know why you're so goddamn jealous. Of Dean. Of Henry. Of every man who gives me the time of day. But it has to stop."

"Olivia—"

"No. Just listen. . . .I am trying my damndest to get over Dean Porter. And your bullshit is not helping."

Stepping back a little, she shoves her fingers through her hair. Elliot knows she's fighting to rein in her anger. Her eyes dart between him and the elevator doors, willing them to open so she can leave, so they don't have to have this talk.

"Liv," he starts again, but she's not done speaking.

"Why don't you want me to be happy?"

"I do."

"No, you don't. You'd support me if you did."

"I just want you to be safe. Smart."

"So I'm stupid for trying to have a life?"

"That's not—"

"Maybe I want to be stupid, El. Maybe I want to live a little. Maybe tonight I'll drink too much and invite Henry upstairs. And it won't be for coffee."

Elliot's head fills with images. Why is she trying to bait him? His mouth hangs open, but he's not sure whether he's angry or confused.

She sighs and raises a hand to squeeze her temples. "God, Elliot. It's me. You know I'd never do that. I'm sorry."

He doesn't believe it. She's comforting him. He's the one attacking her character, her decisions, and she's comforting him. Sometimes he just doesn't understand her.

The elevator doors have opened and she's stepped inside. He stares at her, debating whether or not to get in and try to apologize, but she's shaking her head slightly, as if to say he should let it go. Let her go.

As the doors close she says, "If I need a bailout, I'll call you."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought. I'd also be interested to know where you think this is going. :)


	7. Released

A/N: I am truly sorry for the long delay between chapters. I hope everyone's still with me. Thank you all for the reviews and encouragment. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chels, this chapter would not have been possible without you. Seriously, you're the best. :)

Disclaimer: Not mine. None of it. Well, except for the story, obviously.

* * *

Released

On his way home, Elliot checks his cell phone at every red-light. There are no missed calls. The realization that Olivia is not going to call him makes his bad mood deteriorate even more. By the time he pulls into his driveway, he's craving a stiff drink and a good fuck, neither of which he'll be getting tonight.

"You're home early," Kathy says when he walks in.

Elliot mumbles a greeting and trudges upstairs. He can't play the game tonight, can't pretend to play house with his wife. Not when his thoughts are with another woman.

Eli's door is cracked open and he sneaks inside, gently kisses his son's head and re-tucks the covers. He savors these moments now because, barring any unpleasant surprises, this is the last time he'll have a child small enough to tuck into bed. A part of him will miss these moments.

He goes into his bedroom, loosening his tie. Kathy appears and leans against the doorframe. She looks like she wants to talk.

"Not tonight Kath."

"What? Can't we have a simple conversation after you get home?"

Conversation isn't the word for it; what they do is argue every night, without fail. And it always starts out with his wife asking why he won't talk to her.

He tries to head her off. "Kath, I'm tired. Work was crazy."

"That's always your excuse."

Elliot doesn't respond. He unbuttons his shirt and slips out of it before pulling his t-shirt over his head. Then he removes his shoes, socks and pants. Flipping back the comforter, he settles himself into bed, trying to avoid a full out fight. He can feel Kathy glaring at him.

A few minutes later he feels Kathy get into the bed next to him. Her cool skin brushes against him and she lays a hand on his chest, testing to see if he's still awake.

"Elliot?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm. . .I just feel like I'm the only one trying to communicate here. You promised you'd try harder, but I don't see it."

"What do you want me to talk about? It's just work."

"Something's bothering you."

"Don't worry about it."

"If it's nothing important, why won't you tell me?"

He feigns sleep, making his chest rise and fall rhythmically and hoping his wife can't feel his heart racing from his sudden adrenaline rush beneath her hand.

She doesn't press him for a response. Instead her thumb gently rubs against his chest, back and forth. Elliot knows this won't lead to anything good.

Kathy whispers, "Don't you need me anymore? Don't you want me?"

He can hear the tears in her voice. Elliot aches for her because of all the pain he's caused her, because of all the pain he will cause her. She's really a wonderful woman, a good human being; he owes her more than he can give her.

Kathy starts to kiss his neck, shifting her body to lie half on him and half on the bed. She's slow, mechanical. The wetness from her cheeks transfers to his skin.

"Stop." His rumbling command makes her stop out of surprise more than anything else.

"Why?"

"Kathy, don't," he says when she starts kissing him again.

Elliot slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position, forcing Kathy to move away. Her eyes are wide with hurt and confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"I just can't tonight."

"Elliot, it's been almost two months."

It's been almost two months since he slept with his partner, since he cheated on his wife. It's been almost two months since he started lying to Kathy. He regrets that now. He should've told her everything.

"Elliot?" There's a note of annoyance in her voice.

"I just can't."

"Why not? Is something wrong with your penis?"

"My penis is just fine."

"Then what hell is wrong with you?"

They have perfected fighting in stage whispers. Her voice can't be heard through the walls, but Elliot knows she's screaming at him.

"Would you calm down?"

"I'll calm down when I know why my husband refuses to sleep with me."

There's no other answer to offer her other than the truth, brutal as it might be.

Elliot rubs his hands over his face and hair, locking his fingers behind his head. Then he drops them, takes a deep breath. It's hard to believe he's about to kill his marriage. But it's time for him to stop hesitating, to stop being a coward.

"I slept with Olivia."

The words hang in the air. Neither one of them moves or speaks for several moments. Then, Kathy rolls off of the bed and stomps out of the room, grabbing her robe on the way.

Elliot breathes; slow deep breaths. He counts to ten. Repeats the process. Then he follows her.

* * *

She's sitting on the couch. "Go away."

"Kathy, we need to talk about this," he says, coming closer to her.

"Leave me alone."

He stands by the fireplace, well out of slapping range. He watches as she twists her wedding ring in circles around her finger, then slides it on and off with ease. It's her silent threat, her way of reminding him that she can leave him at any moment. But usually the motion is subtle; now she pulls and twists the ring ruthlessly, making her skin visibly irritated.

"I know you won't believe me, but—''

"Don't you even say it."

"Kath, I'm so sorry."

Her wedding ring hits him square in the chest. It doesn't really hurt, but he knows she meant it to. He deserved that hit. He's just glad it was only her ring and not the TV remote that's sitting in front of her.

"I told you not to say it!" she shouts, barely keeping her volume in check.

"I should've told you before. It wasn't right for me to keep it from you."

"Well, maybe you should've."

"You'd want me to lie to you?"

"About this? Yes."

His wife wasn't making any sense. "Kath, I made a mistake, but we can get through this."

"How, Elliot? I won't be able to forgive you for this."

"You have to try."

"Why? So we can keep making each other miserable?"

"It'll get better."

"Elliot, you always say that, but it never happens. It's never going to."

* * *

The holiday season means a heavier case load. Work is a great distraction from his marital problems, but Elliot's yearly Christmas vacation comes up before he realizes what week it is.

"What are the Stablers doing this year for the holidays?" Olivia asks as she finishes a report.

"Well, Maureen's flying to Boston with her boyfriend and Kathleen's refusing to come home."

"Oh?"

"She says it's 'for the good of her mental health'."

A slight frown appears on her face. "Is everything okay at home?"

Elliot still hasn't told her that this will be his last Christmas living at home, that he's been spending his time looking for a cheap apartment while the divorce attorneys are cooking up the paperwork and dividing assets.

"Just normal holiday stress," he says. She doesn't look like she believes him. "And, I was thinking we'd nix the gift exchange this year, if you don't mind."

She smiles and rolls her eyes. "Thanks for the advanced notice."

"You didn't buy something already did you?"

"No. No, you know me. Last minute shopper."

* * *

Christmas is a disaster.

The tension between Elliot and Kathy spreads and infects the rest of the household.

Dickie won't talk to either one of his parents, but he only glares at his father. When he refuses to open his gifts, they are passed on to Eli—who finds tearing the wrapping paper more exciting than finding out what's inside.

Lizzie's more forgiving than her twin, but she's not taking the divorce well. As she hands her father his gift, she cries.

"I just wanted you to be able to see us whenever," she explains through her sniffles.

Tears come to Elliot's eyes as he flips through the binder-sized photo album. It strikes him just how many family photos he's not in. "I'll still see you all the time, honey."

Dickie mumbles something about "false promises," but Elliot's too busy hugging his daughter to take the comment to heart.

Elliot thinks this might just be the worst Christmas they've ever had and wonders if he and Kathy should've waited until after Christmas to announce the divorce. He doesn't know what possessed them to ruin the holiday for their children.

* * *

On the first of the year, Elliot moves into his new apartment.

He's almost single. Almost happy.

Almost.

* * *

A/N: I'd love to hear what you thought on this chapter. It was a real struggle to write. :)


	8. Resolutions

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews everyone. Here's the next chap. Enjoy!

Chels--for all your support--thank you. :)

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf is still the owner. And NBC, I guess.

* * *

Resolutions

Even after half a month of living in his new apartment, the lingering odor of the former tenant makes Elliot nauseous. It smells like old woman and cat piss, but he can't open the windows to get rid of the stench because he can't afford the heating bill. Instead, he views the odor and the accompanying stains as a constant reminder of how shitty it is to be a 43-year-old divorcé—well, nearly a divorcé—living on the outskirts of Queens.

On the bright side, his place is rent controlled and he can keep up with the payments. He reminds himself of that fact every night before he goes to bed to the sound of his neighbors going at it like fucking animals.

Hatred for his new apartment and neighbors—not to mention the stress of going through a divorce—makes Elliot's nights restless and short. Since he can't sleep, he goes into the precinct early and gets in a good workout before he dons his suit and tie. He tells himself it's a New Year's Resolution to stay healthy, not just a distraction from his less than ideal mid-life.

***

Thud.

"Oh Ge-orge!"

Elliot wakes from his uneasy sleep when the headboard hits the wall behind his head. He reaches for his alarm clock and holds it in front of his face to read the blurry numbers.

3:00

"For God's sake."

"You're so beautiful," George grunts loudly.

Elliot can't stand it. He should go over there and write them up for a noise ordinance. His temper has gotten shorter; he's starting to not care if his neighbors think he's an asshole. Not getting laid in close to three months will do that to a man.

Instead he gets up, makes coffee while he checks his e-mail and throws on some sweats. After he eats, he heads to the precinct for a workout. There's nothing like 150 squats and a good round with the punching bag to help him cool off and forget his neighbors.

***

Elliot hears someone running on the treadmill before he even opens the gym door. The footfalls create a steady rhythm. It's just shy of five o'clock. Who would be here this early?

He's truly surprised when he sees his partner on the machine. Despite the hours they work, she's never been much of a morning person.

"I thought you went to a gym by your place," he says in greeting.

"Membership expired. What time is it?"

"'Bout five. How long have you been here?"

"Since four. Must've lost track of the time." She slows her pace to a walk and puts her hands on her hips, breathing deep. Sweat glistens at her temples and along her neck.

Elliot wonders what's on her mind; he saw the zoned out expression on her face when he first came in. But he knows better than to ask her if something's up.

"You know, normal people sleep at three in the morning."

"Look who's calling the kettle black," she says. "You look like you had a rough night."

So the circles under his eyes are noticeable. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Everything okay?"

"Uh. . ." He can't do it. He's not ready to tell her about the divorce yet. Not until he dots his 'i' and crosses his 't's. Which will be soon enough; Kathy hasn't tried to screw him over too badly, so they won't have to drag it out in court. Everything will be so much easier when it's over. At least he hopes it will.

She's looking at him expectantly.

"Just can't sleep. Gotta lot on my mind. What's your excuse?"

"Same thing."

He should've expected an equally vague answer. You get what you give.

Olivia comes to a stop. She eyes the water bottle in his hands, licks her dry lips. "Can I have some? I forgot to grab a bottle on my way out."

He hands it to her without question and she takes a long drink, eyes closed. Elliot watches her neck as she swallows.

"Thanks," she says, giving it back half-full. Then she lifts the hem of her shirt to her forehead, wiping the sweat away before it can leak into her eyes.

Elliot's gaze is drawn to the exposed skin, but he catches himself and looks away quickly.

Olivia catches him too. "It's just skin, El. Nothing to blush over."

Yes it is. The images of her skin—beneath his hands, his mouth—are more than enough to color his cheeks.

He clears his throat. "I didn't mean to stare."

She shrugs noncommittally, tries to act like it's no big deal.

But it is. It's a big deal because she's his partner, not his lover. He can't look at her like she's his, can't look at her like he wants to. Olivia doesn't seem fazed. Her nonchalant attitude irritates the hell out of him.

"Spot me?" she asks, sitting down at the bench press.

He nods.

Wrapping her hands around the bar, she begins a set. Elliot remembers—when they were first paired up—spotting her once or twice; she can lift more now than she used to.

"You look thinner," Elliot remarks casually but he ends up sounding like he's accusing her of something, not giving her a compliment.

"Not much."

After ten reps she rests, then starts again. Elliot watches her arms, waiting for any sign that her muscles are too tired to lift. Olivia holds steady through another ten.

"Why are you on this health craze all of a sudden?"

"Whaddya mean?" she asks, adding a five pound weight to each side of the bar.

"You're losing weight. You've stopped drinking coffee, tea. Anything with caffeine. And yesterday you ate a salad."

"What's wrong with being healthy?" Her words are a little raspy after her third set, her face red from the effort.

"Nothing, I guess."

On her fourth set, her arms begin really shaking. He knows she doesn't want him to help her—even though she asked him to spot her—but his hands are itching to put the bar on the rack. Somehow he holds back and Olivia finishes the set.

"Why're you trying so hard?" he asks, voice low.

"I'm not." Olivia takes hold of the bar again, but Elliot holds it in place by leaning on it.

"Bullshit." Then it dawns on him. "You're doing it because of _him_."

She sits up, swinging both legs to one side of the bench. "Him? You mean Henry? Don't be ridiculous."

"He's changing you."

"I'm the only one changing me, Elliot."

"Why would you want to change? You're fine."

"Change is part of my New Year's Resolution. And it starts by getting healthy."

"Liv, you are healthy."

"Not enough."

"What the hell does that mean?"

She doesn't answer him. Getting up, she gathers her belongings. "I'm going for a shower. See you upstairs."

Elliot's convinced that Reed's the reason behind Olivia becoming super-conscious of her body and her health. Maybe it's because she's dating a doctor. Maybe it's something else.

* * *

A/N: You may be all, "What the heck is going on with this chapter?" but it isn't a filler chapter. And as for the next chap, well, all I can say is the _Lion King_ song "Be Prepared" is going through my head right now. Hehe. But seriously, you've been warned. Let me know what you thought. Reviews make me smile. :)


	9. Revelations

A/N: Okay, is everyone ready? This is my favorite chapter yet. Hopefully yinz/y'all/you all will like it too. Enjoy!

Chels, thank you.

Disclaimer: NBC and Dick Wolf own them. I'd argue for ownership rights, but since NBC moved SVU back to 10pm on Wednesdays (EST), I'll keep my mouth shut.

* * *

Revelations

Lizzie honks the horn from the passenger seat, impatient with her brother. Elliot shares the feeling.

He finishes buckling Eli into his car-seat—wiping spaghetti sauce from the toddler's mouth with the inside of his shirt sleeve—and gets behind the wheel. Dickie slides into the backseat a minute later, sulking like he has been all night, and they start driving.

Although he should talk to his kids, the ride to his old home is silent. He feels rushed, stressed out—Kathy wanted the kids home at eight o'clock, but there's no way they'll make that deadline. He's also distracted by the thick envelope in his lap, the one holding the signed divorce papers.

***

When they get to the house, Dickie takes Eli inside, barely mumbling a goodbye. But he does say something, which Elliot considers progress.

"Dad," Lizzie says, turning to him on the front porch. "Thanks for showing up. Tonight was nice."

"You didn't think I'd make it?"

She glances at her feet. "I did. Dick didn't."

She's always worried about other people, especially her brother.

"Give him time, Liz. He'll come around."

She nods, then hugs him tightly. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you too," he says, kissing her head. "Will you do something for me?"

"Sure."

"Give this to your mother." He hands her the envelope with the divorce papers. He'd do it himself, but he doesn't want to get into a fight with Kathy about being late. He just wants it to be over.

"Okay," Lizzie says. "I'll tell her you got called in for a case and had to run."

He smiles weakly in thanks, hating the fact that his daughter has to lie for him.

***

Over the next few hours, Elliot finishes a six-pack.

Instead of mellowing him out, the alcohol makes him restless. He can't seem to stay still inside of his apartment. The walls are too close and he sweats even though his apartment is freezing.

Finally, he can't stand it anymore and grabs his coat.

***

Half an hour later, he finds himself standing outside, staring up at Olivia's apartment building. His plan is to tell Olivia about the divorce. He's stalled this conversation long enough. Now that everything's signed, it's time.

But when he reaches her building's stairs, he's having doubts about his decision. As much as he wants to talk to Olivia, he knows he shouldn't be here. It's after midnight and he's drunk. She wouldn't want to see him like this.

He sits on the stairs, not caring about the cold.

Elliot's still debating how angry she'll be if he wakes her up when a man in his twenties walks up to the apartment building. He looks a little tipsy too.

"Lock yourself out, dude?"

"Uh. . ."

"C'mon. You'll freeze out here."

It has to be a sign. At least, that's what Elliot tells himself as he stands, legs shaking and ass numb.

Once they're in the building, the good Samaritan makes his way down the hall, not bothering to see what Elliot does. Elliot's going to have to have a chat with the building's supervisor about security.

Slowly climbing the stairs, he pulls out his cell-phone. He should call and warn Olivia that he's coming. Maybe she won't be as angry if he calls first.

He waits as the phone rings, and rings and rings.

"Elliot?" The voice is sleepy, but also annoyed.

"Kath? Shit." His finger must have hit the wrong speed-dial button.

"Elliot? What's wrong? It's after one."

"Go back to sleep. Wrong number."

"Have you been drink—"

He hangs up, cutting her off. Screw the phone call; he's already at Olivia's door anyway.

Elliot knocks loudly but no one answers. Olivia's home; she has to be. He needs to tell her about the divorce before he loses his nerve.

"Liv!" he calls, pounding on the door.

A few seconds tick by. The door is wrenched open so quickly that Elliot sways.

"What're you doin' here?" Elliot asks the shiny chest in front of him.

"You're drunk."

He's starting to doubt Reed's intelligence. Any idiot could tell that he's intoxicated.

"Where's she?"

"Olivia and I are busy."

Elliot realizes what that statement means. It's code for 'I've got a woman in bed.' Bile rises in the back of his throat at the very idea. Or that could be the alcohol he's ingested.

"I wanna talk—" Elliot begins but his phone cuts him off. It's Kathy's ringtone. Elliot ignores it.

Reed says, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until the morning."

Elliot's not taking this shit. He shouts around the doctor, "Liv!"

"You need to leave." Reed's more forceful and steps into Elliot's space.

"Not 'til I see her."

Elliot tries to shoulder his way around the man in front of him, but Reed grabs onto his coat and pushes him back.

"Get your damn hands offa me."

"Henry? What's going on out there?" Olivia calls from the bedroom.

"Nothing." Reed frowns at Elliot, hands still gripping his coat. "Get lost, Detective."

"I'm not fucking leaving!"

Reed gives Elliot a shove, making him stumble into the wall behind him. As the doctor moves to close the door, Elliot launches himself forward, grabbing Reed around the waist and knocking him to the ground.

Elliot knows he could take Reed under normal circumstances, but he struggles to keep him pinned to the floor. The doctor has two advantages Elliot lacks: youth and sobriety. Reed's skin is also slippery, oily, and he manages to slip out of Elliot's grasp.

Reed's arms lift Elliot from the ground before wrapping around his head in a hold. Elliot swears loudly, twisting and trying to land a punch to the doctor's gut.

"Elliot!"

Both men freeze. Reed drops his arms at Olivia's glare. Elliot can't meet her eyes, can't look at her period because she's only wearing a satin robe. Getting a hard-on is the last thing he needs right now.

Reed speaks first. "Livie, you should go back to bed. Elliot was just leaving."

"No, Henry," she says, "I'll handle this. Just give me a few minutes."

"But. . ."

Olivia ignores Reed's weak protest. She walks past Elliot muttering, "Hallway. Now."

Elliot follows her without argument. He closes the door behind him.

***

"What the fuck is your problem?" she asks, but quickly holds up a hand to stop him from answering. She takes a deep breath, collecting herself. "How much have you had?"

"Enough. I came to tell you—"

"Whatever it is, I don't wanna hear it. Not until you're sober. You shouldn't be here."

"It's important."

"What could be so important it couldn't wait until eight o'clock?"

Kathy's ringtone sounds again. He wants to throw the phone off the roof. When Elliot ignores the ringing, Olivia begins to search his pockets.

"Honestly, El. She's probably worried about you," she says. She finds his phone in his back pocket and—though he tries to stop her—she answers. "Kathy?"

There is a pause on the other end of the phone. And then yelling, screaming. Elliot hears every word and the phone isn't even near him. Olivia holds the phone away from her ear but it doesn't take her long to understand why Kathy's screaming. The words 'home wrecker' make it pretty clear.

She snaps the phone shut and stares at him, mouth open. "What did you do?"

"Liv, Kathy and I. . . .We're through. S'over."

"That's why you're here? To tell me you got a divorce?" She's surprised, but still angry.

"Well, yeah. I thought. . ."

"You thought _what_?"

"Jesus, Liv. I thought you'd be happy."

Silence follows his statement.

Olivia looks at the ground, the walls, the ceiling; anywhere but at him. He sees the tears she won't let fall. He sees them and knows that he's really fucked up this time because Olivia Benson does not cry.

Flipping his phone open, she begins dialing a number.

"Who you calling?"

"A cab service. You're going home. Wherever home might be."

"Olivia, please. Let me 'splain."

She hangs up when she's done calling a cab. When she looks at him, it's not sadness or anger that he sees in her eyes. It's something far worse: disappointment. He wants to crawl away and die. He'd do anything to get that look off her face.

"Why didn't I know?" she asks quietly.

"I just signed the papers."

"You should've said something before papers were even involved."

"You would've tried to stop me. I wanted the divorce." Until he says it, he's not aware of how true that statement is. Now he realizes what he's wanted, what he's needed. And she's turning away from him, turning the doorknob to her apartment.

"Don't lie to me," she says and the sadness has returned to her voice. "You should go."

He has to say something to stop her from going inside. "Reed's not the one, Liv."

She pivots and her eyes flash. "Leave Henry outta this."

"He's a weakling."

"From what I could see, he was winning the fight."

Elliot ignores the blow to his ego. "He called you Livie. Who the hell calls you Livie?" The pet name leaves a bad taste in his mouth just repeating it. "He's not what you want."

She doesn't miss a beat. "We can't always have what we want."

They stare at each other and words aren't needed. They're both blown away by the implications of her response.

"Why not?"

Olivia wipes a hand over her face, exasperated with the conversation.

Elliot's eyes widen. "What's that?"

She hides her hand behind her back, but not before he sees the rock attached to her finger.

"That's why you should've told me about the divorce."

She opens the door.

"Olivia. . ."

"Go home, El. Just, go home."

He stares, pleading with her. "Don't do this. Not with him."

"I can't lose a good thing when I have it," she says, adding in a whisper, "Not again."

* * *

A/N: The end. Haha, just kidding. How evil would that have been? But I will say that this chapter should mark the halfway point in the story, meaning this should be a total of 18 chapters. Just a heads up. So do you like me now that Elliot told Olivia everything? Or are you coming after me with pitchforks for putting an engagement ring on her finger? ;)

Also, I'm taking a poll (which you can access through my profile) about what story I'll write next. I have a list of prompts up, and I'd be very happy if you helped me choose my next project. Thanks in advance to everyone who votes. :) The poll will remain open until the end of this story.


	10. Revelations II

A/N: Hopefully this will be the last traumatic chapter (for readers at least), as far as revelations go. There was no better title for this chapter. A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed, even if some of them involved threats of bodily harm. I deserved it. ;) Enjoy the chapter. And thanks for reading.

Chels, you help me more than you know.

Disclaimer: I don't own SVU or the characters. Those rights belong to NBC and Dick Wolf and Co.

* * *

**Revelations II**

The ring is MIA.

It makes him wonder if he imagined the whole thing. Elliot almost convinces himself that night didn't happen, except Olivia has been avoiding him, giving him apprehensive looks like he's going to reveal her darkest secret.

That's why the ring is missing; she doesn't want anyone to find out she's engaged.

Elliot's happy he crashed the celebration. Otherwise Olivia might have kept him in the dark until after she was married.

Now that he knows, he has to try and stop her. If not for his sake and sanity, then for hers. There's still time to talk her out of this mistake.

The only problem is getting her to talk.

* * *

Elliot makes a mental note to thank his Captain one day. Cragen ordered a stakeout on a suspect in a rape investigation, inadvertently giving Elliot the perfect chance to interrogate his partner about her misguided decisions.

Olivia is trapped and testy. She's probably been expecting—dreading—this conversation.

Elliot doesn't want to disappoint her. "So, about last week."

"What about it?" Her voice sounds calm, but Elliot hears the edge.

"Well, for starters, you're engaged."

"Yes, I am."

"How can you be engaged to a man you've known for three months?"

She keeps her eyes on the apartment building their supposed to be monitoring. "Don't start this, El. Not now."

"We've got plenty of time," he says. "What's so special about this guy?"

"His name is Henry. Stop referring to him like he's some stranger."

"Isn't that what he is? How much do you know about Reed?"

"Plenty."

Elliot snorts. He doesn't believe that for a minute. "And how much does he know about you?"

Her mouth opens, but she can't come up with an answer.

Elliot pushes the issue. "Does Reed know about your mother? Your father? Does he know how your job consumes your life or how it's almost taken it a few times? About Sealview?"

"Stop."

Elliot pauses, then says quietly, "Reed doesn't know you at all, Liv."

"You're wrong," she says, but her voice wavers.

"He'll never know you like I do." He's trying to tell her what she means to him, but she's too stubborn to hear it.

"Maybe not. But Henry's good to me."

If he hears that phrase—that excuse—one more fucking time. . .

"I need a bathroom break," she adds.

And just like that, the door's open and she's gone.

* * *

Olivia comes back and passes a cup of hot coffee into his hands.

Confused, he looks at the coffee, then at her. "Is this bad juju coffee?"

" 'Bad juju'?"

He gives a half-smile at her raised eyebrow, trying to ease the tension between them. "Did you pee in it or something?"

She grabs the cup, rolling her eyes. She takes a short sip, then hands it back. "Satisfied?"

"Thanks."

He eyes her empty hands. "You still staying away from caffeine?"

She nods, but her gaze is fixed on the building in front of them. Good. One of them should focus on the job. Elliot's more interested in how her shoulders slump, how her head tilts toward her chest and how the rims of her eyes are a dull pink, like she's been crying.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Nothing."

Her response is too quick. "Somethin's wrong."

"It's nothing I want to discuss."

"Now?"

She doesn't respond.

He prods. "Is it about Reed?"

"Just drop it, Elliot," she snaps.

"Would you stop PMSing for a second? I just wanna know what's wrong."

Olivia closes her eyes and bites her lower lip as if prepping herself for pain.

"What'd I say?"

"Elliot, please."

"What's the matter with you?"

"It's personal. Leave it at that."

" 'Personal?'" he asks.

"Sometimes I wonder if you ever really lived with four women."

Her mumblings confuse him even more. Then realization dawns and he feels like an idiot. "Oh, _that_ kind of personal."

Elliot falls silent, wondering why it's such a big deal. It's not like her to be so hormonal. He knows she can't be embarrassed; he used to know her cycle like clockwork. The only reason getting her cycle would be this upsetting. . .no.

No. No. No.

But all the signs point in that direction—the healthy diet, losing weight, avoiding caffeinated beverages. All those 'vitamins' she's been taking. He can't believe he overlooked them.

"You're trying to get pregnant?" He sounds every bit as shocked as he feels.

Olivia's eyes go wide. Apparently this is another secret she was trying to keep from him.

"Yes."

Elliot can't wrap his head around the concept. An engagement ring is one thing, but a baby? That's a life changer. He fumbles with words, but finally asks, "And Reed? How does he feel about it?"

Olivia remains silent.

"Liv, he knows. . .right?"

"He knows I'm not on birth control. That it's a possibility."

Elliot can't believe the words coming out of her mouth. This has to be some kind of mid-life crisis. That's the only thing that would explain her losing her mind like this.

"That's not the same as _wanting_ a kid."

"I want a child."

"That doesn't mean you can lie to Reed."

She doesn't say anything for a few minutes. Then she says, "Last year, when we were on the Bernardi case. . . .It really changed things for me."

Elliot keeps himself from interrupting her. She closes her eyes and, for a moment, the current case is forgotten.

"The daughter of a suspect, Fidelia Vidal, told me I was jealous of her because she was pregnant. Said I was too old to have children. She was right."

"Olivia, you are not old."

"I'm forty-one, El. I don't exactly have time to play with."

It's a valid argument, but he still thinks she's going about this the wrong way. "It's not right. Lying to Reed."

"I wasn't asking for your opinion."

She refocuses her attention on the building across the street. Elliot backs off, giving her time to breathe.

* * *

Another hour of waiting and watching—of silence—goes by.

Elliot feels like he should say something, something supportive. Even if he doesn't agree with her.

"Give it time," he says, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation.

She follows him. "What if I run out of time? What if I've missed my chance? What if I can't get pregnant, El?"

"You will."

"Do you have any idea how low the statistics are for women over forty conceiving and having a healthy pregnancy? And that doesn't even include the possible health complications for the baby."

Elliot knows the odds. He knows they're not in her favor. It's clear she's scared, scared in a way that he's never seen her before.

He reaches across the space between them and finds her hand, squeezes it. "Don't think about the statistics. It'll happen. Trust me."

She squeezes back. She doesn't let go.

* * *

A/N: So, some of you kinda predicted the pregnancy thing. BUT, she's not pregnant. . .yet. :) Let me know what you thought. And, in case you're wondering, the next chapter won't be up until Wednesday next week (at least that's what I'm shooting for).

In other news, the poll is still open for what I'll be writing next. Just visit my profile to vote.


	11. Rectification

A/N: Hey everyone. Thank you for all of your comments on the last chapter. I know it's been a while, but it's been a rough week. Here's part eleven. Things should start falling into place. Enjoy!

Thank again, Chels! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own SVU. Dick Wolf does though. And NBC.

* * *

**Rectification**

Personal issues and arguments are pushed aside for the rest of March. It's all about the job and tracking down a serial killer who kidnaps and rapes little girls before murdering them.

Elliot and Olivia spend more time crashing in the crib and exhausting possible leads than they do anywhere else. But he's fine with the long hours because Olivia's with him, not Reed.

He prays for the stress of the case to put a permanent wedge between his partner and her fiancé.

But divine assistance is a tricky thing.

* * *

Just as he's beginning to think her engagement spoiled on its own, the ring reappears. And this time, it's on display for all to see.

"Here's the report on Adele Ryder," Munch says, handing Olivia a folder. "My, my. What have we here? Is this what I think it is?"

Her embarrassed expression almost looks real.

"It's an engagement ring, John," Elliot says.

Munch shrugs. "I was going for blood diamond. Same thing, I s'pose. My advice? Get out while you can."

"What?" she asks.

He turns to Elliot. "Has she learned nothing from our failed attempts at wedded bliss? We detectives aren't built for lasting relationships. Especially marriage."

The man has a point.

"El was married for twenty-five years," Olivia argues.

"But he cheated. He was married before he even enrolled in the Academy."

She's still coming up with a response when Fin approaches, coat in hand and ready to go home.

"Olivia's engaged," Munch announces to his partner before he can say goodbye.

"Really?"

Olivia blushes. "Yes, really. Why is that so odd?"

"Kinda quick," Fin says.

"Got that right," Elliot mumbles, earning a glare from Olivia.

"Unless any of you have something nice to say, I think I'm gonna finish my report now."

"It's just unexpected," Fin says. "Doc's a lucky guy."

"How about a celebratory drink?" Munch suggests.

While they discuss going for drinks, Elliot quietly leaves. He's learned that alcohol and jealousy don't mix.

* * *

The buzzer to his apartment sounds as he's pulling on a pair of jeans. He throws the wet towel over his bare shoulder and goes to the front door.

"Yeah?" he asks through the intercom.

"It's me."

His response is to buzz her in.

A minute later there's a soft knock on the door. He opens it halfway. She doesn't make a move to come inside and he doesn't invite her to.

"I got your new address from Maureen. She's worried about us. Says we're not communicating."

"Oh yeah?"

"Apparently the fact I didn't know where you live is telling."

One corner of his mouth tugs upward at the thought of his daughter psychoanalyzing them. "She's a smart girl."

Then he turns and she follows him inside, joins him on the couch.

"It's a dump," he says when he catches her surveying his apartment.

Olivia just nods, looks at her hands. She takes the ring off, rolls it between her fingers as she speaks. "I didn't go for drinks."

"Oh?"

"You just disappeared."

"If you're looking for an apology—"

"I'm not."

She confuses him sometimes. But, for once, she's coming to him. It's taken her a month, but he thinks she's ready to talk about it.

He sends up a prayer for courage, asks, "What're you looking for then?"

"I want the truth."

" 'Bout what?"

"Why you're against me getting married. That's why you left."

Their communication may be lacking, but she still gets him.

Elliot considers his options. He can't say _I love you_. He won't say_ I can't stand the thought of you with anyone but me. _These phrases don't translate.

"I just can't support it, Liv. It's not the answer you want. But it's the only one I can give without. . ."

"Without making it complicated."

He nods. They're riding the same wavelength again.

* * *

She's sitting so close, almost touching him. The silence breeds unbearable pressure, makes him sweat.

He tries to explain himself again. "It's more than jealousy. It's. . ."

Her lips twitch. "Complicated?"

Their convoluted language makes perfect sense within their bubble.

"Yeah," he says. "Why's it so complicated?"

Elliot knows why. Because the rules say a person can't be in love with their partner. And because he's single and she's not.

"El. . ."

"Does it have to be that way?"

"We're partners."

His heart rate spikes because her answer is not _I love Henry_.

"You know that's an excuse," he says. "Has been for years. So was my marriage."

"But you're not married now." It's a quiet observation.

"Neither are you, Liv."

Her mouth falls open and Elliot remembers that God helps those who help themselves. He leans in—threading his fingers through her hair—and covers her lips with his.

Elliot hears a soft thud and then Olivia's hands are on his chest, returning the kiss with a passion that's equally as intense as his.

They shed articles of clothing as they feel their way to the bedroom, their bodies never completely separated. Their skin is hot despite the cool air around them.

Olivia falls into the middle of his bed, right where she belongs.

Elliot's thrusts make the bed's headboard hit the wall, and he smiles inwardly.

His neighbors won't be getting any sleep tonight.

Olivia's a screamer.

* * *

A/N: As always thanks for reading. And if chapter twelve isn't up by this time next week, you have my permission to send me hate mail. ;D


	12. Regularity

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and comments on the last chapter. Now let's see what happens the on morning after, take two. Haha. Enjoy!

Thank you Chels, for all your support. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own SVU (NBC and Dick Wolf do) and I am not making any money from this story.

* * *

Regularity

Elliot blinks awake, blames his job for conditioning his body to be up by seven AM. Even on his day off.

Olivia's not in bed beside him, though he hadn't expected her to be. He wonders how long she stayed, how long he was asleep before she snuck away.

The sound of the toilet flushing startles him.

Olivia shuffles back into the bedroom, and he can't keep a smile from appearing. She's wearing his shirt and her underwear, but nothing else. She stops when she sees that he's awake, staring at her.

"I thought you'd left," he says.

"Do you want me to go?"

Elliot shakes his head.

Olivia hesitates, then climbs back into bed.

"Your apartment is freezing," she says, pressing into him.

Elliot drapes an arm across her waist, curves himself against her and shares the warmth. He places gentle kisses along her hairline, but Olivia's hand comes up to his cheek to stop him.

"El, it's too soon."

He mumbles in understanding and her hand drops away.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks.

"No. It's not that. I'm just tired."

"Guess that's my fault."

"Don't apologize."

His laugh is deep, rumbling. "That good, huh?"

She pinches his ass, but he can feel the silent laughter shaking her body.

***

Around eleven her phone rings.

"Shit."

Getting out of bed, Olivia follows the trail of discarded clothing to her pants.

Elliot doesn't even need one guess to know who's on the line. Their Captain always calls him first.

Sliding out of bed and into a pair of boxer briefs, he heads to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. The task is a convenient excuse to eavesdrop on his partner's conversation.

Olivia keeps her voice low. "I know, Hen. . ..I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night. . ..Yes, we caught a case."

Elliot's eyebrow arches over that lie, but he doesn't interrupt.

"It's my job. You know things come up. . ..Yeah, I'll see you at dinner."

She hangs up and exhales, frustrated.

"You gonna tell him?" Elliot asks over his shoulder, pouring his coffee.

"No." A few seconds later she adds, "Fuck. Where is it?"

He turns and sees her on her hands and knees by the couch, hands skimming over the carpet. Her search for her engagement ring hits a nerve, makes his eyes narrow in disgust.

"So what was this?" he asks. "I thought that—"

"I'm still marrying him, Elliot."

"Why?"

"Because you went back to Kathy once. You'll do it again."

"That won't happen."

Her attention is focused on flipping couch cushions, looking for her ring.

Elliot starts for his bedroom, but whips around and says, "It starts with lies about work. It's all downhill from there. You'll see."

Then he turns and goes into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

***

They both simmer for a while. It's back to only talking about cases, only being together as much as the job requires. They completely shut each other out.

But Elliot can never stay mad at her for very long. His grudge against Reed grows exponentially, but his anger toward Olivia diminishes.

By the middle of May things are better. But he's not sure if he can keep repeating the cycle they have going. He can't sleep with her and then be at odds with her for a month or two afterwards. It's unhealthy, for both of them.

It has to stop.

***

It's his weekend with his kids. Elliot watches the game with Dickie while Lizzie finger-paints with her younger brother at the coffee table.

"You think they could go all the way this year?" Dickie asks.

Elliot nods, loving that his son is speaking to him again. Thank God for hockey.

"They have a great goalie that's got playoff experience. I'd say they've got a good shot."

Their team has a power play opportunity in the third period when Elliot's cell rings.

"Tell me we didn't catch a case," he answers.

"No case."

Elliot's immediately alerted to the strange tone of her voice.

She continues, "I didn't mean to interrupt your time with your kids, but it's important."

"What is it?"

"I won't say over the phone. I need you to come over. Now, if possible."

* * *

A/N: Well I couldn't have everything just be peachy between them all of a sudden, now could I? And what is it that Olivia won't reveal over the phone? Hmm....Guess you'll have to come back for chapter thirteen in a week or so. Thanks for reading!

PS: Mariska's Joyful Heart Foundation is up for a $250,000 grant, and all you have to do is vote online. Go to: refresheverything(dot)com/votejoy . You can vote once a day, every day for the rest of Feb. and if JHF comes in first OR second, they will get the grant!!! Wouldn't that be lovely? Please help! (Yes, I realize that this is a shameless plug, but it's a great cause!)


	13. Responsible

A/N: Hello all. I truly apologize for this lag time between chapters. And, I will be responding to reviews, because you have all been wonderful to me. It just might take me some time. My life's been kinda shitty lately, and this week I have midterms. But nobody cares about that, so here's part 13. Enjoy!

Thanks Chels!

Disclaimer: I don't own SVU or any of it's characters. They belong to the big, bad (Dick) Wolf and NBC.

* * *

Responsible

Elliot only half-listens as his ex-wife complains about having to cut her date short to deal with his 'unexplainable emergency.'

"You owe me for this."

The long pause signals him. "Thanks, Kath."

With Kathy on the way, Elliot leaves the twins to watch their younger brother, promising to make the night up to them soon.

***

He reaches Olivia's apartment in considerable time. The series of buzzes—short, short, long, short, short—he taps over her intercom lets her know he's there.

"It's open," she calls when he knocks at her door.

Elliot walks inside, takes off his coat. He can hear her in her bedroom, opening and closing drawers like she's looking for something. "Liv?"

"I'll be right there."

He looks around. There's something off about her apartment; it's too clean. The candle burning on the coffee table fills the room with the scent of lavender. He helps himself to a bite of ravioli that's sitting on her counter, only to find it cold. Elliot decides not to try the milk beside it and makes his way over to her couch. He sits down just as she comes out of her room.

She's wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a familiar, grey hoodie. Her hair is pulled back in a half ponytail and she's not wearing any makeup.

"What's that?" he asks, nodding at her hands.

The box in front of her is a clumsy shield. "It's the last of Henry's things."

His eyes go wide.

"The engagement's off," she says.

"Oh."

"I shouldn't have called. Right now's a bad time."

Olivia turns her head away from him, her eyes unfocused. Balancing the box on her hip, she tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. Then she puts the box on her kitchen counter and busies herself with cleaning up her untouched dinner like he's not in the room.

Elliot watches her a moment, then asks, "What couldn't you tell me over the phone?"

The plate she's rinsing clatters inside the sink. Before she can answer, someone knocks on her door.

"Gimme a sec."

Reed is the untimely visitor. Elliot notices the dark, purple bruise beneath the doctor's eye. Somebody got him good. It almost makes Elliot smile.

"What's he doing here?" Reed asks Olivia.

She ignores his question. "I thought you were gonna wait 'til I called you."

"My flight changed. I'm leaving tonight."

"I'll get your things."

"Don't forget to leave your key," Elliot says to Reed.

The doctor's neck flushes red, a vein or two becoming more visible. He digs the key to Olivia's building out of his pocket and throws it at Elliot, who catches it just before it hits his face.

"You might as well take that too," Reed says.

Elliot's mouth hangs open. "She told you about the affair?"

"No," Olivia says, "I didn't."

Reed talks over her. "She didn't have to. It was painfully obvious."

She shoves the box into Reed's chest. "That's all of it. You can leave now."

Olivia forces him out by shutting the door on him. She leans against it, eyes closed, as she listens to the sounds of Reed's retreating footsteps.

Elliot's missing something, some crucial bit of information. "What was that all about? How did he know if you didn't tell him?"

Olivia turns around, away from him. She fiddles with the door-chain, locking it, then unlocking it. Her hand falls to the doorknob and her fingers twist the lock back and forth.

"Elliot, I'm pregnant."

Silence pervades, suffocates.

"I'm sorry," Olivia continues as she turns around, head tilted toward her feet.

He doesn't understand why she's apologizing. "Liv, this is great news. It's what you wanted. Isn't it?"

"Yes, and no."

"Reed didn't take the news well."

She shakes her head. "We got into a fight. It's why he's gone."

It must have been a serious fight for the engagement to be called off. Elliot's mind briefly floats back to the purple bruise underneath Reed's eye. . .

"He never wanted to be a father, El. He lied to me."

"Whaddya mean, lied to you?"

Olivia's eyes meet his. "Henry can't have children. He's infertile. It's a genetic defect."

It takes a moment for the information to process, for everything to click. When it does, Elliot nearly jumps to his feet.

"Are you saying it's mine?"

"How many men do you think I'm sleeping with?"

"Jesus, Liv." Elliot's hands run over his head. "It can't be mine. I can't afford to have another kid."

Eli had been a mistake he swore he wouldn't repeat.

"You're sure you're pregnant?" he asks.

"Seven weeks. I got the blood work back today."

"Shit."

Olivia's mouth remains in a fixed line, like she expected him to react this way. She clears her throat, says, "Elliot, I'm not asking for your help with this. Financially or otherwise."

"What? Olivia—"

"You already have one family. I understand. I just needed to tell you."

"I. . .I don't know what to say."

"Okay."

"I need some time."

"Okay."

He comes over to the door. She holds it open.

"I'll see you Monday," he says quietly.

"Okay."

Her answer is a breath of air.

Elliot wishes she'd stop saying that. Nothing about this situation is 'okay.'

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Is that how you expected him to react?

Since I don't know how long it will be between updates anymore, I am going to try and keep cliff-hangers to a minimum. :) But, there is some good news: I have Spring Break starting the end of this week, so I will finally have time to write again! Yay! I hope to finish writing this fic during that break. Only 4 to 5 chapters left!


	14. Reaction

*Author sneaks on to site, apologizes profusely for the delay, and posts at long last.* Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own SVU (NBC and Dick Wolf do) and I am not making any money from this story.

* * *

Reaction

It takes Elliot three times longer to get back to his apartment because he keeps circling his block, unable to stop the car. His thoughts rotate like his tires.

Six. Six kids. Six.

Thirty years ago his plan was to never have children.

His father's words follow him up his building's stairs. _It only takes one fuck to ruin your life._ Maybe his old man had some sense after all.

He shakes his head, forcing his father's voice to quiet. This is not a fiasco. It's a blessing. Any baby is a blessing.

Elliot loves kids. He loves Olivia. There shouldn't be an issue, but with them there are always issues—major ones in this case. The fact that he knocked up his partner is only one of them.

If he were ten years younger and on his second marriage, this would be okay, even welcome. At forty-five with three children still at home that need fed, clothed and educated—not to mention the money he's paying out for his divorce settlement—things are different.

He spots a colorful finger painting on the coffee table, picks it up. Eli's lines and circles roughly resemble people. The words "LUV U DAD" are scrawled in the corner. Each letter is a different size and color. The smile that pulls his lips up and out is almost painful.

He gently touches the picture as he dials Olivia's cell phone.

"Hello?"

"What time is it?"

He hears her fumble with her alarm clock. "Four thirty. What is it?"

For a long second Elliot considers hanging up. He can't. It's apologize now or never.

"El?"

"Olivia, I don't. . .I don't want you to think that. . .." He sighs loudly into the receiver. "I'm sorry for how I reacted back there. I'm not angry, Liv."

She shifts in bed and is quiet for so long he begins to wonder if she fell asleep on him.

"I'm not ready for this to go public yet. Okay?"

* * *

When he enters the squadroom three weeks later, his captain beckons him into his office. Olivia already sits inside, back facing him.

Her plan runs through his head as he lowers himself into a chair.

Their captain examines them for several moments, eyes tired. Sometimes Elliot forgets that Cragen is old enough to be his father. Right now, it shows.

Oddly it's Olivia who speaks first. "Relax, Elliot. He knows."

"I should have known sooner," Cragen adds.

"Is this a reprimand then?" Elliot asks.

Cragen shakes his head, standing. "This meeting is to inform you that your partner is going on maternity leave immediately. You'll be partnered with Tutola until further notice."

Olivia remains silent, so Elliot asks the obvious question. "Why can't you put her on desk?"

Cragen's gaze shifts to Olivia.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Doctor's orders. It's really just a precaution."

"Precaution for what?"

"My pregnancy is high-risk. For a lot of reasons."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not your concern."

"The hell it's not." He covers the flare-up with, "You're my partner. This affects me too."

Cragen interrupts them. "The paperwork is already being processed. Argue about it on your own time. Olivia, you can go. Take care of yourself. Elliot, stay put."

His captain waits until Olivia exits the bullpen before asking, "Is it yours?"

Elliot almost forgets the plan. "Reed's."

"You don't sound happy about that." A test.

"He hurt her."

Cragen sighs, accepts the lie. "Men from my day wouldn't leave a woman to raise a child alone without feeling damn guilty."

"Reed was a bastard."

The older man nods in agreement.

* * *

"It's week sixteen. I'm due for an ultrasound."

"Do you want to know the gender?"

"Do you?"

"I only want you and the baby to be healthy."

"That wasn't my question."

"When's the appointment? I'll pick you up."

* * *

Olivia shivers from the cold jelly as the sonographer moves the wand over the softly rounded flesh of her lower abdomen. He points body parts out on the screen. But there's one body part that's noticeably missing.

* * *

She manages to hold her composure until they get to the car. That's when the first tear appears. She tries to be inconspicuous, but that only catches Elliot's attention more.

"Liv, what's wrong?"

The tear-flow increases slightly. He hands her a tissue.

"It's a girl."

That's what she's worried about? She's not concerned that her placenta is out of place, that her risk for preeclampsia is higher due to her age? Maybe her pregnancy hormones have already kicked in.

"So, you wanted a boy?" he asks.

"It's not that. The gender doesn't matter."

"Obviously it does if you're this upset."

"It's not that, okay?"

He pauses to let her breathe. "Then what?"

Her jaw clenches to keep it from trembling and her eyes squint shut. "Elliot, maybe this is a mistake. I don't know if. . ."

"Olivia, you can't start doubting yourself. Everything is going to be all right."

"You don't know that."

"You're right. I don't," he says. "But you know that I do know?"

He tilts her head with his finger under her chin until she looks at him.

"You are going to be a wonderful mom. And this little girl is going to have all the love in the world. That's what I know."

His fingers move back to play with the hair at the nape of her neck.

"What if you're wrong? What if I screw up? What if I screw her up?"

Elliot shakes his head. "I have complete faith in you. Besides, I'll be there to make sure you're doing everything right."

That last statement floats between them in the car and Olivia's eyes search his for something he can't name. Then she brings her hand to his cheek, leans in, and kisses him.

* * *

A/N: A few chapters left to wrap this up, and I'll post them all (once I write them) just in case there is anyone left out there that cares about this fic's ending. Again, I can't apologize enough for leaving my readers hanging for months with that last chapter. If I knew a way to make it up to you, I would.


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